Take a breath Stiles
by learningtowrite1996
Summary: How dramatic of Gerard to handcuff me to train tracks. Seriously. I'll be okay. Scott will come. My dad will come. Someone's gotta come eventually.


**Hey ya'll. Just thought of this because I'm going crazy waiting for the finale on Monday. Thought someone might need a little Stilinski family feels cause those are adorbs. This is a sorta AU fic, set in Season 2 when Gerard kidnaps Stiles. I tried my best to write it in the way that I imagine Stiles' thoughts work. Hope you like!**

Take a breath Stiles

How dramatic.

How childish. Honestly.

It's so dumb. I've seen it on television a million times. Seriously, if Gerard thinks the best way to get to Scott through me is by handcuffing me to some train tracks, (and bloodying my face and bruising my legs but whatever) then he's got another thing coming. Because when Scott comes, and he will come because I know he will because he's my best friend and he certainly isn't busy right now doing something else I hope I trust Scott with my life and maybe he isn't being a bad friend right now, and maybe he hasn't meant to leave me here for five hours maybe he just has more important things on his mind -

Whew.

My dad always tells me to take a breath through the nose when I'm spazzing out too much. And right now, I am without a doubt spazzing out too much. The blood is pumping in my ears. My breathing is fast and short. My hands are convulsing around the cuffs, desperately trying to pull them off - _oh my gosh..._

My _dad_.

What on earth must he be thinking right now? I just disappeared right off the lacrosse field. Poof. I was gone. He's gotta be freaking out. He's gotta be having a heart attack! He might actually have a heart attack, the doctor said his blood pressure is too high and that he needs to eat better and me going poof off the lacrosse field is not going to do him any favors at all. And what if a train comes? What if a train comes and kills me which wouldn't be a bad death because it would be really quick so calm the crap down. What if I die right now and my dad finds my remains scattered everywhere that would _kill_ him. It might actually kill him. And if that doesn't, then something else will. If I'm dead, who's gonna be around to make him eat salad? Or protect him from all the supernatural crap running around? Who's gonna be there for him if I'm dead? He _cannot _find my body - maybe Scott will find it -

Oh no.

Scott will never forgive himself.

This is just what Gerard wanted _damn_ it Scott is gonna find my body parts everywhere and he is going to feel bad for the rest of his life because he didn't get here in time and I'm not gonna get to tell him that it's okay that I'm dead and it didn't really hurt to be honest and it wasn't your fault that you didn't get to me in time and -

Whew. Panicking again.

I want my dad.

Not very mature. But I'm not very mature. I can at least try to be honest with myself before I die. I'm immature. I'm a hyperactive spaz. I'm too skinny. And I really want my dad because it's freezing outside and the cold is really making my bloody face hurt more and he also probably has some handcuff keys.

And he has a big jacket which he would most likely give me if he were here. And he would also probably have his car nearby and I would get to sit in the front and if I ask him to turn the heat on I'm sure he would. And if I leaned my head against the window and just slept for a little bit I don't think he would tell me to stop getting the window dirty like he sometimes does. He'd probably even stop to get me a hamburger and french fries if I asked.

Yeah I really really want my dad.

I'm shaking bad again. But I think it's not so much panic as it is cold.

But my dad isn't here, but I know he'll come because Scott is probably busy so I guess I'll just try and be calm and lay down until he gets here. It's freezing and I just wanna lay down so I'm thinking the only way to really do that is to kinda curl up on my side with my hands over my head. The cuffs are pressing against my skin which is already sliced open and bleeding but my skin is numb from the cold and the loss of circulation because I'm chained so tightly so that's an upside.

I'm just going to let my eyes shut for a little bit because I like how it's getting warmer when everything becomes darker. My face is squished up against the metal of the tracks which isn't exactly comfortable but the cold numbs my aching face so there's another upside.

It's all dark and my breathing is slow. Hopefully if I can just stay calm someone will come soon, and I won't have to be some stupid damsel in distress stuck on some train tracks and what was _that?_

That noise?

Something whistling? It's faint. So faint. So maybe I'm imagining it. But I did hear a whistling. I mean I know I'm completely ADD and I can't focus on anything and I have frequent panic attacks but I'm not crazy and something is definitely whistling. Maybe I'll look up just to be positive.

There's another noise right as I look up, and it's a much better noise than the whistling. My senses take in the faint whistling growing louder, a bright light down the tracks coming closer, and a voice in the distance shouting frantically.

_"STIIILLLEEESSS!"_

I can't breathe again because I know that voice. He's here! The train is streaking down the tracks, but he is here! I'll call to him, help him out.

"Dad!" That wasn't loud enough, why can't I be louder?! There's a tightness in my chest that's slowly starting to obstruct my throat. Oh no. Please please no. Not right now. "Dad.." That was practically a whisper. What the hell is the matter with me?

"STILES! You out here kiddo? Hello? Stiles?"

The whistling is getting so loud I can hardly hear him. The light seems so close when it's actually still far, don't _worry_ the light is far, it's not blinding you, call out to dad call out to him call out to him call out to him call out to him or else he is gonna find you dead all over the tracks and his life is gonna fall apart and everyone is gonna feel like jerks for not finding you in time and they're gonna feel bad about themselves for the rest of their lives and it's gonna be all your fault so take a breath through your goddamn nose and stop _panicking _and don't look at the blood going down your wrists just keep pulling on the cuffs and yell for dad. Yell for him! This is why he didn't wanna raise you by himself, because you're a worthless brat who can't even take care of himself and oh my gosh I really am going to die and I think it's going to hurt -

"Stiles!"

His voice is closer than ever. My head whips up and oh my gosh there he is running at me - way faster than I've ever seen him run. His face looks panicked which is making me more panicked freaking hell dude calm _down._

"Oh my gosh. Kiddo - Stiles - oh my gosh -" He's kneeling next to me and he's totally breathless. He starts pulling at the cuffs. He mutters something that sounds like of course I leave my handcuff keys in the car. But that's okay because his fingers which are trying to pry me free are warm and that feels good. He's trying with all his might, and I'm still breathing like I've run a marathon.

"Stiles," I look when he speaks again. "Son, it's all right, it's all right I'll take care of it. Calm down, it's all right."

How is he going to make it all right? He left his key in the car and he doesn't have supernatural strength that can break metal, he is not going to be able to fix this. And while I'd like to die with my dad close to me, I don't want my dad dead _with _me. I'll try pushing him off, maybe I can save him because now the whistling really is loud and I can hear the shrieking of the wheels against the tracks.

"Dad," Amazing. My voice is stronger. I'm calmer. "Dad, go. Go, dad!" The light is so yellow. I try to blink it away. "Get out of here!"

"Shut _up_ Stiles!"

"Get out!" That tightness again. Don't cry. Don't freaking cry do not die crying.

"No!" His voice is strained. His stomach is pressed against my back as he pulls and I can feel him breathing. Is he still trying to break metal? He's going to die!

"GET OUT!"

"Damn it, Stiles!" His voice is so loud and the train is so loud and he pulls me backwards and pushes me down so I'm laying on my stomach and my hands are above my head and there's another extremely loud and sharp sound. A gunshot? No, no not a gunshot. He isn't in uniform. He doesn't have his gun. There's something greyish in his hands and the gunshot sound rings again. A rock? He's hitting the chain with a rock. He's hitting the freaking chain with a rock and wow he's hitting it hard and holy crap, did he just break it with a rock holy hell -

My dad's hands are holding me around my middle and he pulls me off the tracks right as sickeningly close, lightening fast, and extremely heavy metal flies past us. We both fall on the ground because the force is so great and the sound of it is killing my ears. I'm screaming but the screaming is involuntary and I think my dad is screaming too. He's got his stomach against my back again and his hands are over my head, trying to shield my ears. Are his ears burning too?

The whistling is getting further away. My dad is breathing heavy and my face is soaking wet. So much for not crying. But in my defense, sometimes tears just come out of my eyes and I can't really control them and there are much bigger issues right now. His hands are flipping me around and I'm facing him and then they pull around my middle again so I'm practically sitting in his lap but I don't see anyone else around so there's no point really in trying to put an end to that, and I'd like to be closer to him anyways because he makes my head spin a little less. I try to focus on his face, but everything is so blurry and I still can't really breathe but I think his mouth is moving so I should try to listen -

"- say that. Stiles? Kiddo? Kiddo, how could you tell me to leave? I'd never leave you. Stiles? Breathe through your nose. Come on, now."

I breathe through my nose. "I didn't," another noisy breath. "- didn't -" one more breath, come on Stiles speak, "- didn't want you - god_damn _it -" one more breath for good luck, "I didn't want you to die." And I'm crying again. Awesome.

One hand is on my forehead now and he says kiddo again which I like and his other hand is on the back of my neck and he's warm and honestly what would I ever do without my dad?

His hands are gone and I blink rapidly but I'm warm again because he puts my arms through his jacket and even though it's not his sheriff jacket because he isn't in uniform it still smells like him so that's good enough.

He pulls me up to my feet and my hands go around his middle because it would really suck to fall flat on my face that already hurts like a mother right now.

"My face hurts," My voice sounds mumbled. Was that out loud?

"I'll bet," His voice sounds angry. I think it sounds angry. A pit forms in my stomach.

"You mad?"

He is practically dragging me. My legs aren't really working. I think they're hurting from being pushed down basement stairs and from being painfully kicked right in the shins when I wouldn't get in or out of the car that took me to the tracks.

"Something wrong with your legs, son?"

Maybe he didn't hear me. "Are you mad?" His face goes funny as I'm looking up into it.

"At you?" I can't speak so I'll just nod. "No. But I'll kill whoever did this. Stiles, who -"

Please don't ask, I can't tell you. I have to keep secrets from you all the time even though you're basically the most important person in my life and the person that cares about me the most I have to lie and I just really wish I could spill out everything to you and tell you the truth but -

"Some kids," talking hurts my face - "Some kids from the other team. Pissed about losing, I guess."

He is trying hard to hold me up and I think he is saying something about it being a good thing that I'm skinny. A good thing? "Did you see them? Did you know them? I'll need descriptions."

I'm going to pass out. It's coming I can feel it. "Don't, Dad - please -" Damn my legs hurt and my face hurts and trying to walk even with my dad's support is draining me.

He understands. He stops questioning me and I can breathe a little easier. He always understands, even when I think he doesn't he actually does. Because isn't he the one who knows when I need someone to sit on the side of my bed because I can't sleep, and didn't he know to take me to the doctor when I said I couldn't focus on anything, and didn't he tell the doctor all my symptoms because he had watched me like a hawk and had seen every one, and I know he gets why I want him to eat healthy because he knows I just want him around and that's why he tries to work late so he can be home in the morning to say goodbye before I go to school it's all because he gets me and he does everything for me.

Now I really can't walk. "Did they hurt your legs?"

"Not too bad. Just kicked them a little. Sorry."

"You're sorry?!"

"Well, yeah."

"Damn it, Stiles."

Damn it what? "What?"

"Quit saying sorry. Quit trying to take care of everyone."

Okay, what the heck. "I don't try to -" Ah whatever. Talking freaking hurts okay.

We're at the car. Holy hell was the car always so beautiful? I need to sleep. Sleep will clear my brain for sure because I got hit in the face a lot and I saw stars a lot and I think going to sleep will make my brain work right again.

The car door opens. "Yes you do." Okay well maybe I do but I never make any difference because I always fail at everything and I'm not even any help to anyone. He sits me inside very carefully and I feel fingers lightly brush my cheekbone which is pulsing the worst. His face looks a little sad.

"Yes you do."

Deja vu. Didn't he just say that? "I do what?"

"Make a difference. To me." Huh. I thought I said that in my head. He buckles my seat belt. Wow I need to sleep.

The door shuts and I can lay my head back against the soft seat and even the window if I want because my dad isn't going to fuss about that I can just feel it. And I don't even have to ask him to turn on the heat he just does it anyways. Then there's a bottle of water in my trembling hands and oh my gosh the coolness of it goes straight to my heart when I drink it. Way better than a hamburger and fries. But I'll ask for those too because he's the best and he'll take me to get some.

My face still hurts and my wrists are raw and my legs ache and the panic is still a sharpness in my stomach but he should really know before my eyes close I can say just one more thing just take a breath through the nose...

"You're the best,"

It's quiet. Except I can hear the tires against the street. "I am?" His voice is soft. Maybe - affectionate?

"Yeah - of course you -" And I just can't anymore because it's really been a long day and I really did get hit hard in the head and I really did get kidnapped just hours ago and a train really almost did kill me so I'm gonna sleep and I'll miss what my dad says back but I'm pretty sure it's something nice, and maybe he will say that I'm the best too and I know he's right next to me so that's enough to make the panic fade away, and the breaths to come in a little slower...

**Hope you liked. Please please review. It means a lot to me :)**


End file.
